Of Love, Lies and Loss
by Jenna822
Summary: *One Shot Collection* Choices - We make them everyday. Some choices lead us to wonderful things while others can cause us pain and tear our lives apart. Sixteen stories of love, lies and loss.
1. Teddy: A story of Love

**Teddy Lupin**

**A story of: Love**

Teddy's story takes place on Christmas Eve during one of the harshest snow storms the Burrow had ever endured. The nine year old Metamorphmagus sat on an overstuffed throw pillow, staring out of the window at the racing winter night. The adults were busy fawning over the newborn Lily Luna and taking bets on when the swollen Hermione was finally going to deliver her second child.

The sounds of laughing children filled the living room as two tiny toddlers raced through the mess of adults, partaking in a game of chase. Angelina and Percy broke away from the group, attempting to wrangle the young Fred and Molly back into their beds for the night.

Teddy watched the scene in the reflection of the window. He stared as Angelina lifted her son into her arms and held him close, squeezing the boy until a fit of giggles erupted. Teddy's normally light blue eyes faded into a soft green as he watched Percy try to give an extensive lecture about proper sleeping habits to his two year old daughter. A heavy hand fell onto Teddy's shoulder. He looked up to see George Weasley staring down at him with sympathetic eyes.

"You ready for bed?" the man asked the child.

"No," Teddy answered, diverting his gaze to the floor.

George shifted nervously and glanced back at Harry, who was holding his baby daughter. Not wanting to interrupt the moment, he chose to push on himself. "It's already past ten. If you don't get some re-"

"I said _no_," Teddy spat out, interrupting the man. He crossed his arms and flung his body back around to face out of the window once again.

"Teddy, don't give your Uncle such attitude," came Ginny's voice from across the room.

"He isn't my Uncle," the young boy hissed, still focused on a snow covered tree in the distance. "And you're not my boss."

"Excuse me, young man?" Ginny crossed the room in three steps and had her older brother pushed out of the way so that she could stare down at Teddy. "It's time for bed. Get your pajamas on and go," she said, her voice stern and motherly.

"No!" Teddy shouted, jumping up from where he was seated. "I don't have to listen to you. You aren't my mother!" He kicked at the pillow he had been sat upon. The puff of blue went flying towards the fireplace and almost into it; only to be saved by a quick summoning charm on George's part. The young boy's hair flushed red and he gritted his teeth in frustration.

Ginny got to her knees and pressed her hands onto the child's shoulders, trying to force him to look into her eyes. "Teddy, calm down," she cooed, using her understanding voice. "I think you need to get some rest. You'll feel better after a long night's sleep."

"No, I won't!" Teddy argued, pulling himself from the woman's hold. "A _long night's sleep_ isn't going to give me a mother. It isn't going to do anything except get rid of me. That's what you want! You just want me to go to bed so you can get rid of me!"

"Ted Remus Lupin, that is _not_ true," Ginny spat, her entire face contorting along with the severity of her tone.

"Don't call me that," Teddy hissed as he crossed his arms again and turned his back on Ginny.

"That's your name."

"Well I hate it!" Teddy flung his arms out in anger and stomped his foot onto the floor with enough force to shoot a pain throughout his entire leg. He winced momentarily before resuming his fit. "I _hate_ that name. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I hate it and I hate _him_!"

The sound of Teddy's yelling was bringing about more and more youngsters into the living room; all of them eager to see what was happening. A tiny blonde rubbed at her eyes and stared up towards her father, looking for some sort of answer as to Teddy's screaming. With fully red hair and sickly yellow eyes, Teddy turned around and stormed out of the living room, desperate to get away from the forming crowd. He knocked over a kitchen chair onto its back as he passed through the room and wrenched open the back door.

Icy wind bit at Teddy's face as he broke out into a run across the back yard. The cold pierced through his knitted holiday Weasley sweater and caused the child to shiver violently. His teeth banged together and made his head ache from the force. He hadn't had enough time to bother with shoes, so his socks were soon drenched through, his feet instantly numb. The boy collapsed onto the ground, throwing his hands out in front of him to break his fall.

A choking sob escaped from Teddy's throat as he hit the ground. He clambered to sit on his knees and stared down at his pulsing hands. Both palms were skinned and bleeding, but he couldn't see them. He had run too far from the house and the light was far behind him. Teddy was shrouded in darkness, shaking violently from a mixture of the cold and pain which seeped through his body. Tears froze on the boy's cheeks before they could reach his jaw to fall away; his nose became caked with chilled drippings. Desperately, he sniffled, trying to get rid of the obstruction, only to be met with more pain in his head from doing so.

The boy allowed his body to fall over, all hope of holding himself upright abandoned. His face pressed into the snow and his sobbing become louder than the fierce howling of the wind around him. Two arms wrapped tightly around Teddy's body, lifting him off the ground. His eyes were closed tightly, but he could tell that whoever was holding him was running back in the direction of the house.

The warmth of the house felt like fire against Teddy's frozen skin. He cried out in pain and clutched himself against the figure holding him. The arms tightened around his body.

"Put him by the fire!"

"No don't. He'll go into shock!"

"Uncle Haewy, what's wong with him?"

"Give him to me, I have a blanket."

"Harry, let him go, you need the fire too."

"You 'ave to let go. Put 'im on ze couch."

"He needs to be by the fire!"

"Mummy, why isn't he moving?"

"He's just tired, Fred, go with your father."

"Teddy!"

"Victoire, Dominique, go back to bed, he'll be okay."

"The clothes, get him out of the wet clothes."

Hands came from all directions, pulling and prying at Teddy's soaked outfit. He could feel his iced over jeans vanish from his body, quickly followed by his sweater. A blanket, several actually, wrapped around the his form and he felt himself being lifted once more.

Finally able to open his eyes, Teddy could see Harry carrying him over to the fireplace. The man laid the young Metamorphmagus in front of the crackling flames and rubbed his hands over the boy's arms. Teddy's hair was a deep black, his eyes the color of cold steel. He looked around the room, focusing on the worried faces of almost the entire Weasley family. He could hear Fleur in the bedroom, begging her two daughters to calm down; the sounds of the girls' panicked shrieks made Teddy's stomach turn.

The sound of soft crying met Teddy's ears, only this time it wasn't his own. He looked up into Harry's bloodshot emerald eyes and watched as they filled with tears. He could barely move from being wound so tightly in the blankets, but he managed to wiggle closer to the man and crawl up into his lap. Harry's arms wrapped around Teddy's body and he rocked him gently, whispering over and over, "Please don't ever do that again."

The rest of the room was slow to move. Bill joined his wife in the comforting of their children while Ginny knelt down behind her husband and put her arms around him. Molly collapsed into her recliner, her teary eyes watching her daughter and son-in-law as Charlie rubbed at her shoulder. George and Angelina quietly took their son's hand and led him into the kitchen for some soothing tea; they were followed by Ron and Hermione, both grateful that Rose hadn't woken from the chaos. Percy and Audrey resigned to sit on the couch in silence and make feeble attempts at drying Teddy's clothing.

Teddy pressed his face into his Godfather's chest and listened to the man whisper with his wife. The young boy's eyes fluttered closed to the soothing sound. It was then, as Teddy Lupin drifted off to sleep, he truly understood what it meant to be loved.

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**A Note From the Author: Thank you so much for starting this story. This entire 16 chapter piece is being written for a challenge which requests a story about each of the 16 next gen characters. The order I'm presenting them in is relevant to the way some intertwine with each other and so that there is an even spacing of Love, Lies and Loss. I really hope that you decide to follow this throughout each of the stories. There will be heart-wrenching tales as well as happy, fluffy, make you smile ones. This is the only one which features the character as a child, the rest of them will be teen and adult aged. Don't be afraid to leave a review and thank you so much! :D –Jenna**


	2. Roxanne: A story of Loss

**Roxanne Green (née Weasley)**

**A story of: Loss**

Roxanne was twenty-eight when she felt her world crash down around her.

She often looked fondly upon the day she met Joshua Green. He was a Ravenclaw to her Gryffindor, but that didn't stop the two from sitting together in every class they could. What started as a mild friendship forged over a common distaste of Herbology and a shared desire to one day travel the world, eventually built into a heavy and strong love. By seventh year, the two had vowed to never leave each other's side.

She and Joshua married when they were seventeen. Fresh out of Hogwarts, the two allowed themselves to become swept up in a whirlwind romance. Travel and exotic adventure made them think nothing could touch their wild and free souls. The two tied the knot on a whim in a little French village. They hadn't even had a ring or proper attire, but that didn't stop them from pledging their eternal love to each other in a language they barely understood.

Things were fantastic for Roxanne and Joshua as they traveled the world as man and wife. Three months in New Delhi, a month in Takhman, a fabulous year in Greece – the two were never locked down; never bound to the land. They were unbroken spirits dancing along with their own desires and enjoying every moment of it. Nothing was going to tame their fire.

Until two pink lines brought their seven years of fanciful adventures to a halt.

Hesitantly, Roxanne and Joshua retreated back to London and bought themselves a flat to form a proper family and raise their newborn baby boy. Joshua, who had been making money by writing magazine articles on their travel destinations, reluctantly took up a position at the _Quibbler_ in which he would be writing pieces on the locations of completely unrealistic creatures.

Roxanne resigned herself to a house-wife and a mother. Every day, she did her duties. She raised their son, did the cooking and kept the house in spotless condition. She loved her son and missed the carefree life at the same time. The woman often found herself longing for the days that the boy would old enough to go to Hogwarts; the days that her and Joshua could resume their wild lifestyle.

When Roxanne was twenty-eight, she realized that her dreams weren't going to come true.

She held the hand of her four-year-old son and led the boy into the tiny flat. "Joshua!" the woman called out as she laid down a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and began sorting through them. "Joshua, are you home?" she called out again. She knew that man was meant to arrive home before her.

Roxanne heaved a sigh and shuffled through the house, assuming that her husband was merely doing something that kept him from hearing her; napping perhaps. Her eyes widened with confusion as she pushed open the bedroom door and was met with a half emptiness. The man's bedside table was devoid of its usual clutter of receipts, scatterings or change and alarm clock.

She licked her lips and slowly walked further into the bedroom, noticing that her husband's closet door was opened slightly. _Empty_. The man's clothes were stripped from their hangers, his drawers cleared of every pair of pants and every sock. Even the unwashed laundry from the hamper was missing.

Roxanne let out a shuddering cry and stared in horror at the missing pieces of her life. She dragged one hand through her short black hair and collapsed onto the bed, curling herself into a tight form. It was only then she found the note, stuffed halfway under her pillow.

**I'll miss you.**

Roxanne couldn't understand how three little words could rip her insides into shreds. The woman wadded the paper into her hand and let out a choking sob into her pillow. The fabric quickly became smeared with her make up and soaked with her tears.

For over an hour, the woman laid in that position, crying herself dry, only to once again be hit with a wave of tears. A tiny hand pulled her from her own misery as her son touched her shoulder. Roxanne snapped her eyes open and scooped the little boy into her arms. She hugged the child against herself, whispering how much she loved him and apologizing over and over, for what she wasn't sure of.

"Why are you crying?" the tiny child asked, laying his hand on his mother's cheek and feeling the wet of her tears.

Roxanne gave her son a sad smile and rubbed her hand through his dark hair. "Mummy's just a little sad, baby," she answered, pulling him into another hug. A quick glance at the clock made her shudder with realization at how long she'd been there. "Are you hungry?" she asked, trying to give her son her usual brilliant smile.

The tiny boy nodded eagerly and dashed out of the room; Roxanne followed close behind. It was odd to make only two plates of dinner, the first sign of her changing life. How quickly a person's word can change with only three little words. Roxanne tried to keep up appearances for a few weeks, insisting that Joshua was on a work related assignment. Desperately, she hoped that the man would return; hoped that he would realize he couldn't live without his wife and son. The day never came.

When her family finally broke her down, Roxanne admitted that Joshua had left her. The worst part was she didn't even see it coming. She assumed her husband was just as satisfied as she was. She knew he missed the travel and freedom, but she had missed it as well. She always assumed that he was willing to wait as she was.

A few months after Joshua's unexpected departure, divorce papers arrived and Roxanne once again felt herself shatter into nothing. Her brother had deemed himself her caretaker and for over four months, the man lived in her home, taking care of her son and making sure that the woman fed herself. She was a shell of a person, no longer full of her usual life and bubbly personality.

As the years dragged by, Roxanne learned to pull herself together. She cared for her son and she cared for herself. Dates came and went, but not a single man she met was anything that she desired. When asked, she merely told her friends and family that she would know when it was right. It was never right.

The day she took her son to Platform nine and three quarters, she beamed a proud smile. It was an exciting day for the boy and she was going to make the best of it. Her arms clung to her son tightly, tears streamed down her face. She watched with watery eyes as her child boarded the Hogwarts Express, giving him a wave until he was far out of sight.

Roxanne returned to her home that night, all thoughts of travel long behind her. Her spirit was lost.

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**A Note From the Author: Thanks for reading. Review please? :D –Jenna**


	3. James: A story of Lies

**James Potter**

**A story of: Lies**

James was a Quidditch sensation. He joined the Gryffindor team, as a Chaser, in his third year and blew people's minds with his almost natural talent. Despite being so heavily skilled, that never stopped the boy from working harder, pushing himself further and devoting countless hours to practice. By his sixth year, scouts from the Minor Quidditch Leagues were already knocking at his door. He was quick to sign on and walked the halls of Hogwarts in his final year with a proud stride.

He only played for two years in the Minors before the Major Quidditch teams began schmoozing him to their favor. New brooms, top of the line clothes, fancy dinners, promises for benefits and loaded contracts were only the tip of what these teams had to offer. With the help of his mother, who also happened to be his agent, James signed on to the team he would never stray from: the Ballycastle Bats.

At only nineteen years old, he was the youngest Chaser to be drafted into the Major Quidditch Leagues. And rightly so. In his second year with the Bats, he blew away the record for points scored in a single Quidditch hour, previously held by a member of the Tutshill Tornadoes. Within his next six years of play, he broke his own record twice over.

Rumors began that James Potter would soon start to lose his talent. Being twenty-seven and surviving multiple intense accidents on the Pitch, no one would have been surprised to see the man's talent dwindle. But it did not. Despite all of the odds being against him, James only seemed to improve.

"How do you do it?"

The first words James Potter ever heard from the woman who became his wife.

Her name was Carter Stuart and she wrote features for _Quidditch Monthly_, a magazine that had sprang up over the last decade with breakout articles such as '_Ten Years of Cheating – Why the Arrows Should be Banned_' and '_Are the Magpies Really Vampires?_'.

The woman was insanely beautiful, but that didn't stop James from pointing out that she was in the men's changing room. She responded by tossing back her hair, waving her notepad and taking a seat to wait for her interview. The man couldn't help but be pulled in. The two had their interview, then they had dinner and three months latter, they had a wedding.

James was on the top of the heap. A Quidditch star, a happily married man and still considered one of _Witch Weekly's_ most gorgeous men. He loved his career and he loved his wife. For four years the two indulged in their luxurious lifestyle. The man didn't think it was even possible to grow happier than he already was. On his thirty-first birthday, he was proven wrong.

He was never one for elaborate celebrations, so James merely wanted a nice dinner with his wife for his birthday. Carter went all out. She prepared a selection of his favorites from the tiny quiche appetizers all the way to the treacle tart desert. He was in awe of her cooking talents and didn't fail to tell her so each time she showed them off. The two cuddled up on their sofa and pulled a blanket around themselves, ready to relax with some nice music.

"I think you should open your gift now," Carter whispered in her husband's ear.

"You weren't supposed to get me anything," James argued. "You made dinner, that was more than enough."

"Just take it," the woman laughed as she thrust a small, rectangle box into his hands.

The man sighed dramatically and pulled the paper away then flung the box lid to the floor. "A picture frame?" he asked in confusion. He lifted it from the box and stared down with wide-eyed wonder at a photo of something he couldn't decipher for the life of him.

"You see this here?" Carter whispered, pointing to a rounded section of the strange photo. "That's a head." She smiled up at James and waited.

James continued to stare at the photo with a blank and lost look on his face. "Head? That's...a head?" After several more minutes, the man jumped to his feet and let out an excited cry. "That's a head!" he shouted, rounding back on his wife and pulling her up into his arms. "That's a head," he repeated as tears streaked down his face.

"Wait, wait," she laughed, pulling out of the man's hug. She took the photo and pointed to it again. "That's a head."

"You just said that."

"No, baby. That's a head and that's a head," she clarified, pointing to two separate locations on the photo. "We're having twins."

And for the first time in his life, James Potter began to brag. In all his years of being a Quidditch sensation, he had never once been a braggart. But now, with two tiny lives inside of his wife, he couldn't be silenced. For the following seven months, he told anyone and everyone who would give him a chance about how he was going to be a father. When the genders became revealed, he couldn't stop asking people, even strangers, what they thought of name choices.

He was going to have a son and a daughter and he wanted to tell the world about it.

James soon learned that being a Quidditch star and a father weren't the most compatible of careers. For years he missed birthdays, first steps, first words, vacations and those special moments when his children would cuddle up in his wife's lap and let her read to them. The longing he felt to be home grew and grew. The devotion he once held to Quidditch was soon replaced by spite and hatred. Contracts are quite the tricky things and James' was ironclad. The man would be a Bat until he could no longer serve the team's future. The promise he made for being blessed with the finest of tangible goods.

Even at his age, James was still outscoring the young and fresh Chasers.

'_A Tragic Day for Quidditch_' was what the headlines read the day James Potter was struck down by a Bludger. In twenty-four years of playing Quidditch, James' record reflected him being hit one-hundred-seventy-three times by a Bludger, but never once had one dislodged him from his broom. Fans would never forget the day they all stared with horrified faces and held their breath as the Quidditch legend fell towards the ground and landed with a crack.

Muggle doctors and Healers did all they could for the man. The spinal damage was severe; the diagnosis was always the same: James Potter would never walk again. Healing session after healing session, even when the Healers were confident their efforts would save him, James still could not move his legs. He argued over and over that he couldn't feel the pins used to test his nerves and every time he was lifted to his feet, he collapsed back to the ground with a distressed cry.

Eight months of failed treatment left the Ballycastle Bats' manager with no choice. The man arrived at the Potters' home around eight o'clock at night, a cease contract order clutched in his hand. He apologized to James, but he knew that he had no other options. If James couldn't walk, couldn't fly, then he couldn't play Quidditch.

With a shaking hand, James Potter lifted the quill and signed his name to the end of his Quidditch career. He wiped away the tears and shook his former manager's hand, then tipped his head back onto the pillow. Carter led the other man to the door and bid him adieu, then returned to her husband.

"What now?" the woman asked quietly as she sat down on the edge of the bed and took James' hand.

"Now..." James let out a long breath and squeezed his wife's fingers. "Now I help you tuck the kids into bed," he answered before throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. He walked into his son's bedroom and smiled down at the playing child.

James never regretted his lie.

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**A Note From the Author: Thanks for reading. Next up: Hugo with a story of Loss. :D –Jenna**


	4. Hugo: A story of Loss

**Hugo Weasley**

**A story of: Loss**

Hugo's story is one of tragedy, but he never meant for anyone to get hurt. He was a kind and bighearted man. And though Hugo was loyal and hard working, he had never been the brightest of men. It was that fact he sat dwelling on in the deep confines of the Ministry while he awaited his trial.

"Weasley comma Hugo," came the voice of another man from just a ways down the darkened hallway.

Hugo let out a sharp breath and rose slowly to his feet. His eyes traveled around the nearly empty hall. Only Zellar comma Dorothea remained for a trial after himself. Briefly he sought out eye contact with the woman and the two exchanged terrified and supportive glances. The red-headed man swallowed back his fear and started down the hallway, the magical chains binding his feet making his pace rather slow. He held his head high as the man with the list eyed him over.

"State your name," the man prompted.

Hugo wasn't sure if the man was being formal out of duty or spite. The other man was his roommate in school, his partner for countless Herbology assignments, one of his closest friends for seven years. "Hugo Arthur Weasley," the man answered with a trembling voice despite his effort to keep it steady.

The other man scribbled down a confirmation and pointed coldly into the courtroom. He did not look back up at Hugo and Hugo did not blame him. Faced with the situation in reverse, he wondered if he'd be just as cold. Then again, weren't Hufflepuffs meant to be loyal to each other?

Hugo sighed as he pushed aside thoughts of school days and Hogwarts Houses. Those years were long behind him now and he had something much more important to attend to. He was determined to keep his head high as he slowly turned and started for the interrogation chair in the center of the court room.

From off to his left, he could hear his mother's loud and guttural weeping at seeing her baby boy bound in chains and headed for what could be his death. The man would not look up at her, but he was sure his sister sat by the woman's side, holding their mother's hand and putting on the brave, stoic face that Rose Weasley was known for. His father, of course, was not at the trial. The man had passed four weeks prior and was the unintentional cause of Hugo's walk of shame.

"Hugo Arthur Weasley, you have been brought forth today, the fifth day in the month of September in the year of our Lord, two-thousand-thirty-four, to face trial on the charges of one account of attempt at breaking into the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries and one account of negligent homicide on the part of Roger Theodore Davies. Have a seat," the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot ordered.

Hugo lowered himself into the chair beside him and gasped audibly as the chains binding his hands began to glow gold and wrap themselves around the arm of the chair. He hid the pain, refusing to allow it to show on his face, as the chains dug into his arms a bit too tightly.

"It's been brought to my attention that you have forgone the typical use of council in favor of defending yourself, is this correct?"

"Yes, Sir," Hugo answered.

"You're a stupid man for it," the Chief Warlock responded before quickly moving along. "On the charge of attempt at breaking into the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, how do you plea?"

"Guilty," came Hugo's reply, resulting in a collective outburst of chatter amongst the Wizengamot.

"Settle yourselves," ordered the Chief Warlock. "On what reason did you commit this act?" the man inquired.

And Hugo remained silent as he thought back to the day of his father's funeral. The image of his mother throwing herself over his father's casket was too much for him and his sister to bear. Having to watch while the woman's fingers were pried from the edges by Harry as the man attempted to console the distraught woman, it even brought tears to the eyes of the usually cold Rose. Hugo and his sister walked away from their mother, leaving her to the capable hands of her friends.

Tentatively, the man hugged his sister and she surprised him with a return of the comforting affection. "It shouldn't be like this," Rose whispered to her brother. "He shouldn't have been there alone. He should have had back up. He shouldn't..." the woman was unable to go on. Hugo merely nodded at her words. He knew the story all too well. His father had rushed into the back room of the Knockturn Alley Apothecary before his back up arrived, responding to what he thought to be the distressed cries of a woman, only to find himself surrounded by no good thugs and petty criminals.

Ron's death had been instant, the family was told that repeatedly as though the trivial detail could ease the chasm of loss that the missing father created amongst them. Hugo had always thought his mother to be iron strong, but when she was given the news of her husband's death, Hermione had collapsed into a fit of despair that none could pull her from. Hugo couldn't bear to see the pain on the woman's face, so he made a choice. He was going to bring his father back.

"Mister Weasley, I asked you a question!" the Chief Warlock growled, pulling Hugo from his thoughts. "On what reason did you decide to break into the Department of Mysteries?" he repeated.

"I wanted a Time Turner," Hugo answered.

"For what purpose?"

Hugo swallowed back air and shook his head. "My reason is my own. I've admitted guilt, you don't need reason." The man's response sent the Wizengamot into an uproar of protests. They shouted and ordered him to divulge his reasons, but Hugo would not bring further pain to his mother by accusing her of being his motive.

"Very well, Mister Weasley, suit yourself but your refusal to cooperate will not bode well with your sentencing," the Chief threatened. "On the charge of of negligent homicide, how do you plea?"

"G-guilty," Hugo answered, his steady facade falling away.

"Please explain to the court how this act was committed," the man continued.

"I gave the night guard a sleeping potion," Hugo answered quickly.

"Did you brew this potion yourself or purchase it?"

"I purchased it, Sir."

"Have you ever, on any occasion, brewed this potion?"

"Y-yes, Sir. At school I believe."

"And you are aware that hellebore is a key ingredient in sleeping draughts?"

Hugo nodded his affirmation and closed his eyes tightly.

"And – Mister Weasley look at me – are you aware that some people can have allergic reactions to hellebore resulting in loss of breath, restriction of airways and, in some cases, _death_?"

"Yes, Sir, I am."

"Did you, at any time, attempt to determine if Mister Roger Davies was allergic to this substance?"

"No, Sir, I did not."

"Very well," the Chief Warlock sighed. "On the charges of attempted breaking and entering and negligent homicide, this court finds Hugo Arthur Weasley guilty by his own admission. He is hereby sentenced to a term in prison spanning ninety-nine years or until the end of his natural born life."

And with the slamming of the gavel, Hugo's freedom was lost.

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**A Note From the Author: Thanks for reading. Hugo is probably my least favorite character, so his story isn't the greatest, I know. :( Victoire is up next with a story of love. :D –Jenna**


	5. Victoire: A story of Love

**Victoire Weasley**

**A story of: Love**

Victoire would never be as beautiful as her mother. This was a fact she had long since accepted. Despite having inherited Fleur's blonde hair, she would always look more like her father. Her face was in constant comparison to her gorgeous younger sister and there were even times she was told her commonplace beauty was far out-shined by her younger brother. As a child, this hurt the girl; to be told _pretty_-_enough_ was nothing compared to the rampant Veela genes that coursed through her siblings.

There was always one person she could count on to lift her spirits after such times: Teddy Lupin. He would twist his face into the most outrageous of forms and make various animal sounds at the girl until she would fall over into a fit of giggles. "You're prettiest to me," he would tell her.

The boy had always been her side as they grew up. He started off as an annoying brat who liked to push her in the mud when the adults weren't looking. But as they grew older and their attention was stripped for the '_new_ _arrivals_' to the Weasley clan, the two stopped being at odds. They leaned on each other for company and support. Soon enough, they were best friends. And as their teen years came to the ends, they became more.

Teddy Lupin had been the only boy Victoire ever had eyes for. True, she dated a few guys during her fifth and sixth years at school, but they never measured up to Teddy. She kept her feelings hidden until one day, the summer before her final year at Hogwarts, things just spilled out.

"I'm not being stubborn," she hissed during a nonsensical argument over whether or not they should share an ice cream. "You always eat way more than your share."

"You know I'll just eat off yours when I finish mine anyways. We might as well share a bowl," Teddy quipped, shooting the blonde a playful wink.

Victoire rolled her eyes and nodded in defeat. "You're lucky I love you so much, otherwise I'd slap your hand for touching my ice cream." She smirked back at the boy, having only been teasing, but the look on his face was pure shock. "What's wrong?"

"Do you mean that?" he whispered, his eyes widening slightly. "Do you really love me?"

The girl opened her mouth in surprise and flushed red. "I just...I just meant that-that I um...yes."

And before Victoire could consider the situation, she was kissed.

It was hard, having to go back to school when the boy she loved wasn't there. But they wrote and Winter Holiday was spent curled up with each other by a roaring fire. "So sweet you could get a cavity," her father teased, though the man couldn't have been happier about the relationship.

Their relationship grew as the months passed and stretched into years. Teddy, fresh off receiving his Healer's license, wanted his lovely girlfriend to accompany him to a celebratory dinner. He arrived at her home, her parents' home technically, around five, a bunch of wildflowers clasped in his hand. He never brought her roses. "Roses," he would say, "are just overrated. True, they are beautiful, but when you look at a wildflower, it's breathtaking. They're simple and unique and they hold the kind of beauty that touches your heart, rather than just your eyes."

Victoire was in no state for dinner.

Stressed and a mess, the young woman was frantically searching for a missing shoe while her sister, Dominique badgered her about wearing more make up. "I hate that stuff," the blonde argued. "It feels fake and gross."

Dominique rolled her eyes and tossed the missing shoe to her sister. "I'm just trying to help," she mused as she headed out of the room.

Victoire collapsed onto the end of her bed and hung her head in defeat. She'd been convinced to wear a dress that was at least a size too small and a pair of heels that made her feel like she was going to fall over with every step. "I'm not going," she snapped the moment Teddy appeared in her doorway.

"What?" the man whispered as he walked into her room. He laid the flowers on the girl's dresser and knelt down in front of her. "But I made reservations. Why don't you wanna go?"

"I look awful," she said, the threat of tears in her voice.

Teddy leaned back and raised his eyebrows at the girl's appearance. "Well...to be honest, yes you do." When the girl's head flew up and her eyes looked positively ready to bulge, he held up his hands. "You misunderstood!" he said quickly. "I just mean this," he told her, tugging at the hem of the dress. "Why are you wearing something so...I don't wanna sound mean, but it looks like Dominique's."

"It is," Victoire sighed as she kicked the heels off her feet and dragged her hand back through her hair.

"Why are you wearing it?" he sighed as he crossed over to the girl's closet and flicked through it. "Here, just wear some jeans or something."

"I can't wear jeans to dinner. Don't they have some kinda dress code?"

"Yeah, but we'll go somewhere else then. I figured you'd have a dress of your own. We can go to that bakery on the corner of Brighton. You love that place," Teddy rambled as he pulled out a light blue sweater from the girl's closet. "Wear this one? It's my favorite."

"But I -"

"No buts. I'll meet you in the living room in five minutes." Teddy turned on his heel and marched out of the room, not giving her a chance to argue.

Victoire sighed in defeat and quickly changed into the requested sweater and her best jeans. She peeked around the corner into the living room and smirked at what she saw. Teddy sat beside her father on the sofa, engaged in the most heated game of _rock-paper-scissors_ she'd ever witnessed. She stepped into the room and Teddy's eyes jumped to her.

"You look gorgeous," he said as he got up from his place and rushed to her.

Victoire didn't _feel_ gorgeous, especially with her mother and sister in the room, but when Teddy said it, she believed it. She smiled up at the man and laced her fingers with his. "I don't really wanna go out," she whispered, giving the man a defeated look.

"But..." Teddy glanced back to Victoire's father and let out a heavy sigh. "You're very stubborn, you know that?" he asked with a half-smirk.

"I've been told," she answered in a giggle.

"Fine, fine, my beautiful, wonderful, stubborn girl, I'll just have to propose to you here then," Teddy said in a comical tone as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

"What?" Victoire asked, her eyes wide and her mouth dry.

"Oh, you heard me," Teddy laughed. From his pocket, he pulled out a tiny silver ring embedded with diamonds. Slowly, the man sunk down onto one knee and stared up at Victoire with adoring eyes. "Victoire, I love you. And I'm not good with long sappy speeches, but I can promise that I'll be a wonderful husband to you. Will you marry me?"

Victoire slapped her hand over her mouth and gave a nod. "Yes," she squeaked form behind her hand. She dropped onto her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around Teddy's neck. She smiled as she felt him cradle her back. _It was an amazing force_, she thought, _true love_.

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**A Note From the Author: Ah, okay, honestly I didn't care for this one. But if you liked it, let me know? Thanks for reading! :D –Jenna**


	6. Lorcan: A story of Loss

**Lorcan Scamander**

**A story of: Loss**

Lorcan was the plan-guy, so his brother always said. Time after time, the boy proved himself to be full of ideas. Whether it was a simple prank -like the time he and Lysander filled the teachers' lounge with Billywigs- or a more elaborate idea, Lorcan always had something up his sleeve.

"It'll be more than fun!" Lorcan insisted to his brother, Lysander, and their two best friends, Nigel Aubrey and Simon Moran. When the three boys showed no signs of agreeing, the blonde dropped to his knees in a pleading position. "I promise you'll have fun!"

"Camping, though?" asked Simon in a hesitant tone. "Sounds a little...dirty."

"And potentially dangerous," added Nigel as he pulled out his inhaler and took a deep puff from it.

"You thinking reading is dangerous," Lysander teased, pushing on the boy's shoulder. "I say we go. It does sound kinda fun. _Muggle_ _camping_." He let the words roll around on his tongue, trying to get used to them. "You only live once, right? Unless you're..." He pointed towards the near-by ghost of the Fat Friar and let out a laugh.

Lorcan nodded eagerly and jumped to his feet. "It'll be a great way to celebrate leaving Hogwarts _and_ you can both consider it a birthday present to me and Lysander."

"Whoa, whoa, they can call it _your_ present. I still want gifts." Lysander pointed between Simon and Nigel and gave them a cheeky grin. "So we're on then? No wands, no magic tents, just four guys and the call of nature."

"Call of nature? Sounds like you're taking a piss," Simon laughed as he lodged a sofa cushion at Lysander's head. "But okay, I'm in. Nigel?"

Nigel frowned at the other three Hufflepuffs and let out a heavy sigh. "Fine."

It took three months after leaving Hogwarts to get everything ready for the camping trip. Lorcan and Lysander headed up the supplies, purchasing Muggle tents, cooking utensils, how-to Muggle books and sleeping bags. Simon and Nigel volunteered to find the perfect location; one that wouldn't upset the latter boy's allergies too much but still offered hiking, swimming and plenty of adventure.

Lorcan rolled his eyes as he tossed aside the copy of _Searching for Snorkacks_ that his mother kept trying to sneak into his bag. "She's never gonna give up," the boy laughed as he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Give me your wand." He held out his hand to his brother and took the boy's wand. After stashing both Lysander's and his own in his night-stand drawer he took a deep, preparing breath. "Let's go, Bro," he called out, waving his hand and charging out the door.

Three hours later, Lorcan, Lysander, Nigel and Simon stared down at the mess of red nylon that was meant to be their tent. "_It can't be that hard_," Simon voiced in a bitter, mocking impression of Lorcan. "_If the Muggles can do it, we can do it_," Nigel joined in on the taunts.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes at the complaining boys and frowned heavily. "You two aren't even trying," he huffed. "Just...just go start dinner; me and Lysander will handle the tent." He waved off the other boys and waited until they were out of earshot to fall onto the ground next to the mess. "I can't believe I thought this was a good idea," he whined as he tugged at the nylon in an attempt to make it match the illustrated instructions.

"It _is_ a good idea," Lysander laughed as he helped out his distressed brother. "I wanna tell you something. Well, more like ask you something," he said. "Remember last week when you asked me for five Galleons and I told you that I was broke and you asked me where all my money went?"

"Yeah..." the boy hesitated, eying his brother.

"Well I was broke because I...I bought something for Lucy."

Lorcan gave a small laugh and nodded at the other boy's words. "Why didn't you just say that last week? You're always buying her stuff. Wait, you said you wanted to ask me something."

Lysander nodded and put on a goofy smile. "You don't wanna know _what_ I bought for her?" the boy offered. When his brother gave him a look of confusion, Lysander couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, so I bought her an engagement ring and I want to know if you'll be my best man when we get married," he said, his words coming out quickly and half-laughed.

The other boy looked up with a huge smile on his face. "Engagement ring? Did you really? That's fantastic!" he cried out, jumping to his feet and embracing his brother. "And of course I would be. That is, if you're not afraid I'll be more handsome than you."

"We look the same, you dolt," Lysander laughed, pushing his brother away with a smirk.

Lorcan merely smiled at his brother and dropped back to the ground to finish setting up the tent. "Get down here and help me," he said playfully. "Before I lose you to a Missus."

The boys managed to set up the tent and the four enjoyed a dinner of cold sandwiches and Muggle sodas. It was a rough night; none of them were used to sleeping on the hard ground without their plush blankets and overstuffed mattresses. Lorcan tossed and turned most of the night, unable to fall into a deep sleep. He meekly waved off the others when they awoke the next morning with swimming in mind. Lysander, Nigel and Simon left the cranky boy to his tent and went on their way.

Lorcan wasn't sure how long he had been in a light sleep before he heard someone shouting and tearing at the zipper on the tent. "Lorcan, you have to help him!" came Nigel's breathless shouts through the nylon as he finally managed to get the tent open.

"What's wrong?" Lorcan asked groggily as he passed his hand over his cropped hair and squinted at his panicked friend.

"It's Lysander," the boy gasped, fighting for a proper breath. He dug into his pockets and pulled out his inhaler, holding up one finger to the other boy.

"What's wrong with him!" Lorcan shouted, pushing past Nigel and climbing out of the tent. He didn't care that his shoes were still in his bag and the ground was harsh. The boy ran desperately towards the sight of Simon in the distance, his feet being clawed at by sticks, rocks and rough patches of grass.

The blonde dropped to the ground and stared in horror at the sight of his brother's body laying still on the ground; he was soaked and in his swim suit. Simon dragged his hands through his hair and stuttered out something that the other couldn't understand.

Lorcan grabbed onto his brother's face and shook the boy. "Wake up!" he yelled, shaking the boy again. He leaned his face down and listened at his brother's chest. _Silence_. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rising in fear.

"He went under," Simon answered as he lowered himself next to the other boy. "I couldn't get to him very fast. He was kicking and I couldn't... I'm not very strong," he finished defensively. "By the time I got him pulled up here..." He didn't need to finish.

"He's just swallowed too much water, that's all!" Lorcan shouted. His hands patted over his body instinctively, searching for his wand. "My wand," he breathed out. "Where's your wand?" he shouted at Simon, turning to the boy with distressed eyes.

"I didn't bring it!" Simon shouted back, throwing his hands into Lysander's still chest. "You said we couldn't bring them!" He lifted his fallen friend into his arms and held him still as Lorcan pounded his fist into the boy's back in an attempt to clear the water from his lungs.

Nigel skidded to a stop in front of the boys as they continued trying different angles to help Lysander breath. "No one brought their wand?" he asked, his words broken. He let out a sharp cry when both Simon and Lorcan shook their heads.

Lorcan pulled his brother's cold form into his arms and cradled him against his chest as he broke out into a fit of sobs. "I said not to," he whispered. He hung his head, sure that it was his fault his brother's life was lost.

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**A Note From the Author: So this one took a while to put up, I know. Anyways, let me know what you think of it. Next up is Molly with a story about Love. :D –Jenna**


	7. Molly: A story of Love

**Molly Weasley**

**A story of: Love**

Molly fell in love with Jackson the moment she met him. His big brown eyes drew her in and never let her go. Over their years together the two learned each other so well. Molly knew his favorite foods and how much he loved running in the park. She knew that he was scared of thunderstorms and always made sure to play classical music when a bad one was approaching so that he wouldn't be subject to hearing it. Jackson learned Molly's tiny quirks. He didn't mind at all that she needed everything in house lined up just perfectly or that she couldn't have her coffee cup handle facing the right.

Jackson always knew when Molly had had a bad day, even without her telling him. He would see the slight frown on her face, hear the tone change in her voice. On days like that, he would cuddle up next to her and the two would spend hours just watching movies and lounging on the sofa. Nothing could pull the two apart. It was a pure and innocent love that left them both better for having it.

Molly met Jackson right after a particularly bad break-up. The man she had been dating spent most of their relationship trying to change her into a woman she was not. He wanted her to dress more revealing and stop fussing over tidiness. He constantly belittled her and begged the woman to dye her wild and free coppery hair. He found his strength in weakening her self esteem and treating her as though she was an inconvenience on him.

And when the man realized Molly was not going to change for him, he moved on.

Molly knew it was for the best. She'd known long before the break-up that she didn't want that man in her life, but she simply wasn't strong enough to tell him that. It was almost a relief when she was greeted with the sight of her suitcases by the door when arriving home from work. She grabbed her things and never looked back. She had to go home to her parents at the age of twenty-nine, another failed relationship on her record.

Knowing that the man was wrong didn't stop it from hurting. The woman was nearing thirty and all of her younger cousins were married off and having children. It didn't help that, for the last three years, her mother had picked up the habit of laying bridal catalogs around the house every time Molly came to visit and hinting at how much she'd like a house full of grandchildren one day.

The park had always been a place of solace for Molly so it was of no surprise that after being cast aside, she sought comfort in the familiar trees and park benches. She settled herself onto the bench nearest the lake; her favorite spot. She closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp, cool air around her, letting it fill her lungs and cleanse her distress.

She wasn't sure how long she was sitting there when something heavy landed on her knees. The woman gasped in surprise and jumped to her feet, looking around frantically for what had touched her. "Oh!" she cried out with a laugh as her eyes fell over a massive chocolate lab with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "You scared me," she told the creature as she knelt down and lavished him with affection.

"I'm so sorry!" came the voice of a rather handsome man as he ran towards Molly and the dog. "He snapped the leash; he's so strong. I've been meaning to get a new one," the man continued as he ruffled his dirty blonde hair and threw Molly a sheepish smile.

"It's okay," Molly assured him. "He's not bothering me." She smiled down at the dog once more and took a seat back on the bench. "You're welcome to join me if you'd like," she offered. "I could use a little company and this guy doesn't seem to wanna leave." She smirked as the animal nuzzled his head into her lap.

The blonde man joined Molly on her favorite bench and the two began to chat. He was there with his brother to sell a litter of puppies. He bred pure-blood Labradors for a living, but one of his females had gotten loose and bore a litter of mixed breed, mutt puppies. Rather than attempt to sell them to any of his usual type clients, he decided to bring them to the park and sell them very cheap for families with children and loving homes.

Molly couldn't help but find it odd and fascinating to hear a Muggle man going on about blood-purity and quality that came from keeping it pure. It reminded her of talk in History class from Hogwarts; motivations behind the wars and all of the Death Eater business that was now nothing more than a lesson plan to the Wizarding world. They talked for over an hour before the man realized that his brother was most likely going to be angry with his absence.

"Do you mind if I walk back with you?" Molly asked as the man's dog didn't seem to want to leave her side. She held her hand down to the creature and the three returned to the small pen with the puppies. "Oh, they're adorable!" she cooed as she peered down at the tiny lab mix puppies.

"Now I see what kept you so long," another man said as he eyed Molly suspiciously.

"Don't say that. We were just talking," the man laughed and the two launched into a teasing argument.

Molly leaned over the puppies and smiled as several of them fought for attention. She lifted the nearest one into her arms and cuddled it close. "Aren't you adorable," she whispered, holding the creature out and peering into his large brown eyes. Instantly Molly's heart soared with attachment. "You should come home with me!" she squealed, pulling it back to her. The puppy cuddled into Molly's neck and let out a soft whimper that she took to be an agreement. "I'll take him!"

Molly carried the dog all the way back to her parents' house where she was staying while she searched for her own apartment. While Audrey was none to pleased to have a dog in the house, she did love the bright smile on her daughter's face.

"He's...well he's adorable, but now you'll have to find an apartment that'll allow him in."

"That's okay by me. I just couldn't leave him. It was love at first sight," she answered while watching the puppy familiarize himself with the living room. "I'm gonna go get him what he needs. Bed, food, all that. Can you watch him?"

Audrey nodded and quickly picked up the houseplant that the puppy had his eyes on. "What's his name?" she asked while Molly gathered her purse.

She thought for a moment before answering, "Jackson."

There was never marriage or children in the cards for Molly. But if she was completely honest with herself, she didn't truly desire those things anyways. She understood that not everyone had to fit into the commonplace mold that was expected of them. She knew that there was more than one kind of love.

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**A Note From the Author: Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave me your thoughts in the little review box. Next up is Lily's tale. :D –Jenna**


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